


Just See Me

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Basket 'verse [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Because I can, But mostly fluff, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Nobody Dies, Rainbows, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sunshine - Freeform, Whouffaldi Week 2016, a scoch of angst, and, and fluff, ashildr gets the diner, ashildr is not amused, because she has earned that thing, clara is saved from the raven, clara saves people, happiness, i finally figured out how, if you're interested, joy, just a little, mentions of things to come, prompts, references to various characters and fandoms, shameless plugs for, subtly leads into my, the basketverse, the hybrid baby wastebasket, twelve and clara immediately start flirting, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7059970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara visits 2011 Utah for her Last Hurrah before returning to Gallifrey to face the Raven, but a last-minute visitor causes her to question her resolve.<br/>Of all the diners in all the deserts in all of time and space...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just See Me

Clara watched the Doctor, Amy, Rory, and River leave the diner, a wistful smile on her face.  It was strange seeing the chin again, and she was surprised at how much it hurt when he looked through her.  Not as much as the last time she had seen the Doctor, of course – she was used to younger versions not knowing who she was, after all – but it still stung, more than she thought it would.  It was, she reflected, probably because she had a soft spot for that face.  She loved the Doctor no matter what face he wore, but she was partial to the bowtie.  After all, that was the face he wore when they first met – properly, anyway.  Her absolute favourite, though, was the eyebrows.

She winced.  The very thought of that face hurt so much, even after all this time.

When she and Ashildr arranged everything the last time she’d seen the Doctor, she made a point of copying his TARDIS’ records.  Mostly it was a precaution, to prevent accidental meetings between the Doctor and herself.  Part of it was so that she could see him again, even if it was only through archives.  When the searing agony of their separation had dulled to a deep, constant ache, she’d taken to going through the records when Ashildr slept.  The Mire chip didn’t take away her companion’s need for sleep, but Clara’s state of existing between heartbeats meant she no longer needed it herself.  Sometimes she imagined the Doctor puttering around while _his_ companion slept, and smiled. 

It was the archives that had led her to park her TARDIS in the Utah desert in 2011.  As soon as she realized _that_ diner was a dead ringer for _her_ diner, she’d promised herself that it would be her last stop before returning to Gallifrey.  She’d been referring to it as her last hurrah, to her own bittersweet amusement and Ashildr’s confusion.  Briefly, she was tempted to go all out and recreate the gold dress she’d worn on the Orient Express, but decided that would be a little too conspicuous.  The Doctor was incredibly oblivious sometimes, but even _he_ couldn’t miss a waitress dressed in the height of 1920s fashion.  Instead, she wore the blue dress she’d worn the last time they were together, when he had come in and told her a story and played his guitar and _looked right through her_.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as a tear trickled down her cheek.  ‘Oh Doctor,’ she whispered, turning away from the door as she heard it open, ‘I wish you could just see me.’

‘Clara Oswald, when do I not see you?’  At the sound of the voice, that voice, _his voice_ , she froze.  No.  It wasn’t possible.  Slowly she turned, terrified that she was imagining things.

She wasn’t.

He stood in the doorway, his guitar slung across his back, looking almost exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him.  Except he wearing the red velvet coat she loved, and he was looking at her, really _looking_ at her, with the most tender expression on his face.

‘Doctor,’ she breathed.

‘Hello, Clara.’  His lips quirked into a tiny, lopsided smile.  ‘I’ve missed you.’

She wanted to go to him, she really did.  She wanted to run to him, to touch his arm, to slap his cheek, to kiss his lips, to fling her arms around his neck and bury her face in his chest and never let go.  But her legs, which had carried her through invasions and wars and the destruction of worlds, the legs that had without hesitation stepped out into the street to face the raven, suddenly decided to stop working.  Instead, she collapsed shakily onto the stool behind the counter.  She laughed unsteadily.  ‘How?  How did you break the neural block?  When did you remember?’

His eyebrows twitched guiltily.  ‘Ah.  Actually,’ he walked over and sat across from her on the same stool he had before, folding his hands neatly on the counter.  ‘I never forgot.’

She blinked.  ‘That’s not possible.’

‘Well, reversing the polarity, Clara?  Really?  When have you ever know that to actually work?’

 ‘The last time you were here you sat right in that seat and told me a story about a girl you’d forgotten.  You looked _right at me_ and you didn’t see me.  And now you’re trying to tell me that you _knew?’_   She slapped the counter, noting with dour satisfaction that she made him jump.  ‘You knew who I was the _whole time_ and you let me think you’d forgotten?’  The urge she had to kiss him was rapidly losing ground to the need to hit him hard enough to trigger his next three regenerations, eyebrows or no eyebrows.

He had the grace to look ashamed, something she hadn’t seen since she caught him playing electric guitar while standing on a tank in the middle ages.  ‘Yes?’

_‘Why?_   Do you have any idea what that did to me?’  Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly, staring fiercely at the ceiling.  She would not let him see her cry.

‘Clara.’  She continued to glare at a crack in the tiles, not yet ready to look at him.  ‘Clara, my Clara.’  He reached out and gently took her hands in his.  She frowned harder, but didn’t take her hands away.  ‘I couldn’t let the Timelords know.  If they even suspected I remembered you, remembered everything, they would have hunted you down and dragged you back to Trap Street, willing or not.  And I-’ he swallowed, fingers tightening on her hands.  ‘I couldn’t let that happen.  Not when I still didn’t know how to save you.’

Oh.  That _was_ a pretty good reason.  Drat him.  ‘Does your less-than-subtle presence in my TARDIS mean that you have in fact figured out a way to save me?’ she asked the picture of Elvis on the wall behind his head.

‘I have, yeah.’

‘Even though I didn’t ask you to save me.’

She saw him smile – in her peripheral vision, of course, because she wasn’t looking at him.  ‘You don’t have to ask.  You never have to ask.’

Her own lips twitched.  ‘I’m still furious with you.’

‘That’s quite understandable.’  His smile widened.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for at least a couple of decades.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ 

She finally met his eye.  By now he was grinning that crazy, toothy grin she loved.  She abandoned her nonchalant act and grinned back.  ‘I’ve missed you too, Doctor!’  She dropped his hands to lean across the counter and hug him tightly around the neck.  His own arms came up, wrapping around her back while he laughed into her hair.  She took a deep breath.  He smelled like chalk, old books, and the distinct cranberry-orange tang of the time vortex.  He smelled like _home._

She let go, dropping back onto her stool but keeping her hands on his arms.  ‘So tell me, Doctor:  What’s this genius plan of yours?’

He pointed at her.  ‘You’re right, it is a genius plan.  It’s brilliant.  I’m glad you recognize that.’

She swatted at his finger, but he caught her hand with his own instead.  ‘ _I’m_ glad to see you haven’t lost your endearing humility.’

‘Pfft.  You’ve been hanging around pudding brains too long - you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around a clever person.’  She stiffened at the mention of forgetting.  He must have noticed, because his fingers tightened around hers and his eyebrows lifted apologetically.  ‘I _am_ sorry, Clara.’

She squeezed his hand.  ‘I know.  But I can’t forgive you for it.’ 

It was his turn to stiffen, and he started to pull away.  ‘Oh, of course.  I understand.  I’ll just-’

She laughed, pulling him back.  ‘It’s only been a couple of minutes.  I’ve still got what, nineteen years, eleven months, thirty days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-eight minutes of grudge-holding left.  Give or take.’  She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

He blinked.  Then his entire face lit up, and he laughed.  She hadn’t heard him laugh like that since they were banned from the second most beautiful garden in the universe.

The door to the console room closed with a bang.  ‘Are we actually going to hear this genius plan, or are you just gonna sit there and send each other messages in eyebrow semaphore?’

They both jumped, turning to see Ashildr, lounging against the door with her arms crossed, smirking at them.

The Doctor’s eyed her ominously.  ‘Me.’  He nodded shortly.

Clara smacked his arm.  ‘Behave.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

Ashildr rolled her eyes.  ‘Seriously, guys?  I’ve got better things to do than listen to the pair of you flirt.  Like reread my diaries from the French Revolution.  Or clip my toenails.  Or gouge my own eyes out with a spoon.’

‘I’ve got a spoon I’d be happy to loan you…’

‘Doctor!’

‘I was just trying to be helpful, Clara.’

‘Not helping.’

‘Stop poking me.  That’s not helping either.’

‘This.’  Ashildr pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.  ‘This is the real reason the universe keeps trying to split you up.  Put you two in the same room and it’s disgusting.  You make me want to kick a puppy or something.’

Clara grimaced.  ‘She _does_ have a point, Doctor.’

‘You want to kick a puppy?  Why would you want to kick a puppy?  Were you traumatized by puppies as a child?  I’m shocked and disappointed, Clara.  I thought I taught you better than that.’

She narrowed her eyes at him.  ‘ _You’re_ the only one in danger of being kicked around here.  And _I_ taught _you_ , remember?  Now since you’re the only one in the room who isn’t technically immortal, tell us the plan before you regenerate of old age.’

‘That could be any moment,’ Ashildr muttered.

Clara pointed a warning finger at her.  ‘Hush.’  The Doctor opened his mouth, and Clara swung the finger to him.  He eyed it for a minute before shutting his mouth.  She nodded.  ‘Better.’  She tapped his nose gently.  ‘Now then:  Plan.  Explain.’

‘Right.  Well.  I’ve just left for the second time, right?  Not this me,’ he motioned to himself, ‘the dashing, devilishly charming me.’

‘Oh, is that what you’re calling it these days?’ Ashildr asked sweetly.

The Doctor ignored her.  For once.  ‘But the old me.  Bowtie me.’

‘Yeah, you popped up after Amy, Rory, and River got back from watching you die.  We had to move the console room back for you, not that you noticed.’

‘Your chameleon circuit might be rubbish, but at least you got the vortex dampers working.  Otherwise I would have been able to sense that this was a TARDIS the first time I was here.’

Clara winked at Ashildr.  ‘Yeah, we actually read the manual.’

‘Anyway, Bowtie and the gang should be off to 1969 by now, which means we can pop over to Lake Silencio and steal my body.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Well, not steal, exactly.  More like borrow.  And it’s not really my body.  It just looks like my body.  Well, Bowtie’s body.’

Suddenly it clicked, the archives she’d been reading jumping to mind.  ‘You want to use the Teselecta.’

‘I want to use the Teselecta.’

Ashildr frowned.  ‘What’s the Teselecta?’

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.  ‘Billions of years old and you’ve never heard of the Teselecta?’

She shrugged.  ‘If I have, I don’t recall.’  She tapped her head.  ‘Finite brain, remember?’

‘Right.  The Teselecta is a ship that can travel in space and time and look like anyone.’

‘So like your TARDIS, only it actually works?’

He huffed, offended.  ‘The TARDIS works just fine.  And the Teselecta is nothing like the TARDIS.  For one thing, it’s shaped like a person.’

‘I bet the TARDIS could take the shape of a person, if the chameleon circuit was working properly,’ Clara interjected helpfully.

The Doctor ignored her.  ‘For another, it isn’t bigger on the inside.’

‘It would seem like it, though.’

He waved a dismissive hand.  ‘You have to be shrunk down to practically nothing.  It’s not the same at all.  And for a third, it needs to be flown by crew.’

Clara crossed her arms and leaned back – not too far, she didn’t want to fall off her stool.  ‘Isn’t the TARDIS supposed to be flown by a crew?  Six people, isn’t that the ideal number?’

‘Nah.  Takes all the fun out of it.’

‘So let me see if I’ve got this straight.’  Ashildr started ticking points off on her fingers.  ‘You want to steal a ship that currently looks like your previous regeneration, can travel in time and space, and is manned by a crew of tiny people.  Why, exactly?’

‘He wants to use it to fake my death,’ Clara answered, looking at the Doctor.  ‘But will that work?’

He shrugged.  ‘It successfully mimicked a thwarted regeneration.  Death by Quantum Shade shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘But would they even be willing to try?’

He smiled.  ‘Clara.  Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara.  They were willing to help _me._   How much more willing would they be to save _you?’_

‘Setting aside the fact that you are and always will be worth saving, won’t the crew be in danger when the Raven enters the ship?’

‘We’ll reroute the ship’s systems through the TARDIS console and pilot it remotely – no crew.  The Quantum Shade doesn’t steal your soul, but it does trigger a heart attack by consuming all the energy in your body – it essentially scares you to death.  It will probably short out the ship, but we can give them a jump after we retrieve it.  If the Teselecta can survive being cremated, it can certainly survive a temporary power-down.’

‘Wait, is it still at the lake?  What happened after they burned it, anyway?’

‘Well…’ he fluffed his hair thoughtfully.  ‘as I remember, I tried to talk Teselecta-me into a one-on-one football match.  Bowtie-me fancied himself a football star.’

Ashildr stroked her chin, smirking.  ‘I can’t decide if that’s better or worse than fancying yourself a rock star.’

The Doctor clutched the neck of his guitar defensively, angling his body so that he was between Ashildr and the instrument.

Clara laughed, shaking her head.  ‘You’ll always be my rock star, Doctor.  Did the Teselecta go for it?’

With a last scowl at Ashildr, he turned back to Clara.  ‘No, they weren’t interested in a game.  They wanted to get back to spying on the Silence, so they gave me a lift to the bar where I left the TARDIS.  They should be there now.’

‘Well then.’  Clara slapped the counter and hopped off her stool.  ‘Shall we take my ride or yours?’

 

* * *

 

 

In the end they took the diner.  Clara reasoned that if they were successful, they would need to use it to drop the Teselecta off on Gallifrey anyway, so it made sense.  She was honest enough to admit to herself, however, that the main reason was that she wanted to show off.  She was proud of her TARDIS – and her piloting skills.

Ashildr led the way to the console room, the Doctor trailing behind Clara and grumbling about wanting to drive.  His muttering was cut off the minute he stepped through the door.  ‘I see you’ve redecorated.’

Clara grinned, tuning to face him with her arms wide.  ‘What do you think?’

She watched his eyes roam around the room.  They’d expanded, adding a mezzanine level with an organic wooden railing and staircase that looked vaguely Elvish, and there was a small stream that ran from the top of the room, cascaded in a waterfall off of the mezzanine, and disappeared below the console level.  The white round things were still there, set between bookcases that ringed the room.  The topmost ring of round things were stained glass windows, depicting scenes from their favourite planets and books.  In the centre of the room, growing from a floor of rather nice flagstones, was the console itself.  Made of the same wood as the railing and bookcases, it looked somewhat like a tree.  It was much more orderly than the Doctor’s console, the buttons and levers laid out neatly and made of brass and steel.  Scattered around the room were mismatched overstuffed chairs, and there were intricate, jewel-toned rugs on the floor.  It was much lighter than the Doctor’s TARDIS, and there was a faint sent of vanilla and cedar mixed with the leather and paper of the books.  Overall, it looked like a steampunk interpretation of Rivendell, and Clara loved it.

The Doctor sniffed theatrically.  ‘I don’t like it.’

Clara snorted, bumping his arm with her shoulder.  ‘You’re just jealous that we have better taste than you.’

Ashildr sighed loudly and started working the console.  ‘Please, reign in the flirting until after we fake your death and I no longer have to watch.’

‘Yes.  Right.  Well.  Moving on.  Doctor, where is this bar of yours?’

‘It’s on a planet called Takodana.  You’ll like this, Clara – it’s a castle that’s been around for a thousand years.  The owner – Maz – and I go way back.’

Clara worked the buttons and levers across from Ashildr.  ‘“Go way back” as in “I’ve told you the last seven times you showed up never to come here again” way back or “I will actively try to kill you - and by extension us because we’re with you – as soon as the TARDIS lands” way back?  Because there’s only two kinds of people in the universe, Doctor:  people who are irritated by you, and people who want you dead.’

The Doctor drew himself up, eyebrows bristling in offense.  ‘I have lots of friends!  Lots!  And Maz happens to be one of them.’

‘I’m going to go with the first option,’ Ashildr interjected.  ‘Which are you, Clara?’

She leaned around the central column of the console to grin cheekily at the Doctor.  ‘Oh, I’m always irritated by him.  And I’ve got approximately nineteen years, eleven months, thirty days, twenty-three hours, and twenty-eight minutes of being especially cheesed off left.’  She threw the final lever before he could respond, and the inlaid-wood dials above the console spun as the diner hurtled through space and time to their destination.

 

* * *

 

 

‘So how long has it been for you?’ Clara asked the Doctor as the three of them walked through the forest of Takodana.  They’d parked the diner a short distance from Maz’s castle, since it was too big to land in a back room and too…distinctive to leave with the regular spaceships.

He shrugged, flapping his hands as he did that awkward waddle he called a walk.  ‘Eh, I don’t know, about a hundred years, give or take?  I ran into River – do you know she uses my TARDIS without asking?  Who _does_ that?!’  Clara laughed as he quivered with remembered outrage.  Even his hair bristled.  ‘Then I traveled with a girl named Bill for a while.  You’d like her – curious about everything, not afraid of Daleks.’  He shot her a pointed glance.  ‘But she _does_ know how to follow directions, unlike _some_ people.  She’s from the 1980s.’  He paused, frowning.  ‘Or was it the 1780s?  I get those mixed up all the time.’

Clara snorted.  ‘Seriously?’

‘What?  It’s a common mistake.  People are always confusing the two.’

‘Pretty sure you’re the only one who does that, Doctor.’

‘I don’t know – according to my diaries, I went to some pretty wild parties in the 1780s _and_ the 1980s, and sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which.’

The Doctor pointed at Ashildr.  ‘See?  Even she agrees with me.  Big hair, big clothes, loud music, rap battles.  There are many similarities.’

Clara groaned, shaking her head.  ‘You’ve seen Hamilton too many times, haven’t you?’

He ignored her.  ‘I’ll have you know I played Voodoo Child at Mozart’s wedding.  It was very well received.’

‘Of _course_ you did.’

They broke from the trees onto a thin strip of beach.  A large lake stretched between the thickly wooded hills, sunlight sparkling on the water.  Clara could see ships from all over the galaxy sitting along the shore.  Looming over everything, on its own small peninsula, was a truly impressive castle.  It looked ancient, like it had been there even before the forest.  Although the main structure was rather squat, several towers jutted into the cloudy sky.  The entrance sat on the far side of a small courtyard, hung with banners from a thousand civilizations.  Over the main entrance was a large statue of a benevolent-looking figure, arms spread in welcome or blessing.

Clara raised an eyebrow.  ‘Maz?’ she asked, waving at the statue.

The Doctor nodded.  ‘Maz.’

Ashildr laughed.  ‘Wow, looks like her ego could give yours a run for its money, Doctor.’

‘I wouldn’t let her hear you make remarks like that if I were you.  Her sense of humour isn’t as well-developed as mine.’

_‘_ You have a sense of humour?’ Ashildr asked snarkily.

Clara laughed, turning it into a cough when the Doctor glared at her.

‘What about you?’ he asked as they entered the courtyard.  ‘How long has it been?’

Clara pursed her lips.  ‘It’s been, what, four hundred?’  She glanced at Ashildr, who nodded.  ‘Yeah, four hundred years, bouncing around the universe in a diner-shaped TARDIS.’

He blinked.  ‘And you’ve been traveling together that whole time?’

Clara and Ashildr both burst into hysterical laughter.  ‘Oh, _goodness,_ no!’ Clara replied when she’d caught her breath.  ‘We would have tried to kill each other after a century of traveling together.  And since neither one of us can die, that would have gotten messy quick.  No, we meet up every twenty-five years or so and knock about for a while, then I drop Ashildr of so she can have some Me time.’

Ashildr snorted.  It took the Doctor a minute to realize what she’d said.  He grimaced.  ‘No.  Don’t do that.  I’m the only one who can make puns around here.’

Clara stuck her tongue out at him.  ‘Anyway, in the meantime I’ve traveled with several people who died too soon.’  He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a glare.  ‘I don’t mean like “oh, they went before their time,” I mean they literally died before they were supposed to. 

‘Remember O’Donnell from the Drum?  She wasn’t supposed to die in that army base in 1980.  So I popped in while you were busy having an existential crisis and got her into my medbay.  Managed to repair the damage, and then it was just a matter of creating a ghost hologram for her, just like you did for yourself.  She traveled with me for a while, but she really wanted to get back to Bennett.  He was so happy!

‘After that I traveled with a guy named Robin for a while – he was a thief – and later Pietro, Laurel, Trip, Leonard – also a thief…come to think of it,’ she said, stroking her chin as she eyed the Doctor thoughtfully, ‘I seem to make a habit of hanging out with thieves.’

The Doctor shrugged.  ‘What can I say.  We’re charming.’

‘Riiight.  Anyhow, I’ve traveled with a lot of lovely people over the last four hundred years, had a good run.  Utah was going to be my last stop before heading back to Gallifrey,’ she added.

‘Your last hurrah,’ he said quietly.

‘Exactly!’  She beamed at him.  She loved Ashildr to bits, but the Viking had never gotten her the way the Doctor did.  ‘And since I won’t need it anymore, and the Timelords don’t deserve it, I’m giving Ashildr the diner after Gallifrey.’

‘What about now?’  She froze on the steps of the castle, staring at the Doctor as he awkwardly ducked his head.  ‘I mean, if this goes right, you won’t be dying anymore, so will you hang on to your TARDIS?’

She blinked.  ‘I- uh… You know, I hadn’t actually thought about that.’  She glanced at Ashildr, who was watching her with arms crossed and eyebrow raised.  ‘Don’t worry – I won’t take it back.  I promised, after all.’

The Doctor chafed his hands in front of his chest and grinned shyly at her.  ‘You could always come with me.  If you want.’

‘All of time and space in a big blue box?’

‘Something like that, yeah.’

She grabbed his hands, stilling their nervous motion.  ‘That would be-’

The doors of the castle slammed open, and the three of them jumped to the side just barely in time to avoid being hit by the large, frog-like creature that came flying out.  It landed in a puddle of yellowish-green limbs and stained beige jumpsuit, staring dazedly at the sky.

‘I _warned_ you what would happen if you tried to pick a fight in my bar!  I don’t want to see your tusks around here for at _least_ three cycles!’

Clara stared at the newcomer in shock.  The short orange woman barely came up to the Doctor’s waist, and in no way looked capable of tossing that frog-creature out on its ear.  Well, metaphorical ear, since it didn’t look like the space frog actually _had_ ears. 

She was significantly shorter than her statue.

‘Maz?’ Clara hissed out of the side of her mouth.

The Doctor nodded.  ‘Maz.’

Maz’s head swung around and her gaze landed on the Doctor.  Her eyes, already magnified by thick lenses, widened even more.  She flicked a lever on the side of her goggles, and a new lens slotted into place.  Her eyes narrowed.  ‘Doctor,’ she grunted.

He threw his arms wide.  ‘Maz!’

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.  ‘I told you the last time you were here that I never wanted to see your face in my bar again.’

‘In my defense, it _is_ a different face from the last time I saw you.’  When it became apparent that she wasn’t nearly as pleased to see him as he was to see her, he let his arms fall to his sides.

‘ _Any_ of your faces.  And I told you the same thing the seven times before.’

Behind the Doctor, Clara and Ashildr bumped fists.  ‘Called it,’ Clara observed smugly.

‘Are Timelords prone to deafness?  Degenerative memory loss?  General cussedness?’

‘Definitely cussedness.  Especially this one.  He’s Scottish now, and he seems to think that gives him an excuse to be grouchy all the time.  Personally, I think he’s just trying to live up to the eyebrows.’  Clara elbowed her way around the Doctor and grinned down at Maz, reveling in the sensation of being taller than someone for once.  Was this what the Doctor felt like all the time?  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maz.  I’m Clara Oswald.’  She stuck out a hand, but Maz just eyed it skeptically until she let it drop.  Friendly.  ‘I like your place.  It’s homey.’

The Doctor cleared his throat, cutting in before Clara could engage Maz in a full-on snark war.  ‘Look Maz, we’re not here to cause trouble.  We just need to talk to the Teselecta.  We’ll be in and out, you’ll never even know we were here.’

Maz rolled her eyes, goggles making the action particularly dramatic.  ‘I _already_ know you’re here.’

‘So you might as well let us in.’

She sighed heavily.  ‘Fine.  But don’t you dare go picking fights with anyone.  Get in, get on with it, get it over with, and get out.  Get it?’

Clara saluted jauntily.  ‘Got it!’

Maz graced her with a short nod.  ‘Good.’

The Doctor drew himself up with an annoyed huff.  ‘I _don’t_ go around picking fights!’

Clara and Ashildr looked at each other, then dissolved into hysterical giggles.  The Doctor squawked indignantly.  Maz just shook her head.  ‘You got in a shouting match with Han Solo the last time you were here.’

‘He insulted my hat.’

‘And _you_ insulted the Millennium Falcon.  Chewbacca nearly tore your arms off.’

The Doctor shrugged.  ‘Wookies are notoriously sensitive.  Besides, that was over four and a half billion years ago.’

‘You just left eleven minutes ago.  Han and Chewie are still here.’

He waved a careless hand at his face.  ‘Well it’s not like he’ll recognize me.’

‘True.  It’s a bit of an improvement, anyway.  That chin was ridiculous.’

He opened his mouth to retort, paused, and shut it with a click.  When he caught Clara staring at him in shock, he lifted a shoulder sheepishly.  ‘I can’t actually argue with her on that one,’ he admitted.

‘Come on then,’ Maz said, waving for them to follow as she turned back inside.

‘Thanks, Maz.  You won’t regret this.’

‘I already do.’  She shook her head as she threaded through the bar, the Doctor, Clara, and Ashildr trailing after her like a covey of quail – well, two quail and a penguin.  ‘Mark my words, one of these days you’re going to cross the wrong people, and you’ll bring a bunch of Empire wannabes down on my head.  If you’re responsible for the Empire destroying my place, I will personally cause your next regeneration.’

The bar was filled with species from all over the galaxy, drinking, eating, talking, making deals – shady or otherwise.  Even though she’d been in nearly identical bars across time and space, somehow being there with the Doctor was like that first time, when he’d taken her to the Rings of Akhaten and opened her eyes to the universe.  It was all she could do not to gawk like a tourist.

At one table sat a creature that looked like a tree, drinking something with a green glow out of a wooden bowl.  Next to…it? him? sat a raccoon – a _raccoon_ – wearing an orange jumpsuit and stroking a gun lovingly.  The gun was almost as big as the raccoon.

Further on they passed a corner table, occupied by a shaggy-haired man in a black vest and a brown-furred Wookie with a metal bandolier across his torso.  The man winked at Clara, shooting her a lopsided grin.  She raised an eyebrow, smirked, and blew a kiss to the Wookie.  He threw his head back and made a loud chuffing noise, which Clara decided was a laugh.  The man swatted his arm, an insulted look on his face.

‘Don’t flirt with my boyfriend,’ Maz said without turning around or breaking her stride.

Clara blinked.  She couldn’t even _see_ Maz around the Doctor.  did those goggles of hers have rear-view mirrors or something?  Ahead of her, the Doctor glanced from the man to the Wookie.  He stiffened, lengthening his stride until he was almost on top of Maz.  Clara trotted to catch up to him.  ‘Chewbacca, I presume?’ she asked in a stage whisper.  He shot her a glare over his shoulder.

Maz led them to a table in the back.  A man in a brown habit with a metal eyepatch and a truly unfortunate haircut watched their approach.  His good eye flicked over Maz and the Doctor, lingered briefly on Ashildr, and widened when he saw Clara.  He sprang to his feet, brushing past the Doctor to eagerly pump Clara’s hand.  ‘Clara Oswald!  The woman who saves the Doctor!  More importantly, the woman who has saved the universe countless times!  It’s an honour!’

The Doctor looked vaguely outraged that he was passed by in favour of gushing over Clara.  She suppressed the urged to pat his floofy hair and smooth his ruffled feathers.  After all, why should _he_ get to have all the fanboys?  She smiled at the Teselecta benevolently.  ‘Yup, that’s me.’  Shooting a sly glance at the Doctor, she added, ‘It’s nice to know somebody recognizes my genius.’  His eyebrows bristled like a disgruntled owl.  She turned her attention back to the Teselecta.  ‘I think you know my friends?’ she asked, extracting her hand from his.  He had an impressive grip for a man-shaped space/time ship.

The Teselecta nodded.  ‘Of course.  Ashildr, the Lady Me, the Woman Who Lived.  And…’ his face went blank, accessing records as his crew tried to identify the Doctor.  Clara exchanged a grin with Ashildr as the Teselecta got more and more confused and the Doctor got more and more huffy.

Maz sighed loudly.  ‘Look at his eyes.  He’s the Doctor, obviously.’

The Teselecta looked bewildered.  ‘But he was just here not twelve minutes ago, and he was wearing a different face.  And that was his last regeneration.  How is it possible that this is the Doctor?’

The Doctor shrugged.  ‘Early Christmas present, late birthday present, new lease on life for good behaviour, extended sentence for crimes against the universe.  Take your pick.’

Clara patted the Teselecta’s arm sympathetically.  ‘The Timelords granted – or I guess, will grant – him a new set of regenerations at Trenzelore, and this -’ she waved a dramatic hand at the Doctor’s scowling face – ‘is the result.  It takes some getting used to, believe me.’

‘Hey!’

She ignored his squawk.  ‘Anyway, that’s kind of beside the point.  We, um.  We need your help.’

‘Of course!  It would be an honour.  Anything!’

‘Okay, so you know how you helped the Doctor fake his death?’

The Teselecta blinked.  Or possibly winked.  It was hard to tell with the eyepatch.  ‘We _just_ got back from that.  Are you saying he needs to fake his death _again?’_   He shook his head mournfully.  ‘Couldn’t you have refrained from needing to fake your death for at least a day?’

The Doctor crossed his arms and glared.  ‘First, it’s been over four and a half billions years since you faked my death, and second, it’s not my death we need you to fake.  It’s Clara’s.’

‘What happened?’

Clara rubbed her tattoo self-consciously.  ‘I was trying to save a friend from a quantum shade, and ended up getting killed by it.  Then the Doctor went to the end of the universe to pulled me out the moment before my death.  Technically I’m not alive right now, and if I don’t return, the universe will unravel.  But, well, we would both prefer it if I didn’t die and that the universe kept ticking along like it’s supposed to.  I _was_ planning on going back to Gallifrey right about,’ she made a show of looking at her wrist and a non-existent watch, ‘now, but the Doctor thinks this will work.  If you’re willing, that is.’

The Teselecta froze, face blank again.  Ashildr raised inquiring eyebrows at the Doctor.  ‘The crew’s discussing our proposition,’ he explained.  ‘They did this last time; they’ll be done soon.’

As if they heard him, life came back to the Teselecta’s face.  ‘We will help, but we’ll need to pilot remotely.  I don’t want to put my crew at the mercy of a quantum shade.  Everyone knows they don’t have any.’

The Doctor nodded.  ‘That’s what we thought.  Maz, could we borrow your equipment?’

Maz shook her head.  ‘If it’ll get you out of my place faster, fine.  Come on.’  She led them to a room the depths of her castle.  There were monitors and holographic projections everywhere, mixed with technology from all over the galaxy.  Waving a hand, she said, ‘Help yourself.  But if you break anything, I will break you.’  She went back upstairs, grumbling about Timelords and the price of alcohol these days.

While the Teselecta scanned Clara – she’d changed into the outfit she’d worn on Trap Street, which gave her uncomfortable flashbacks – the Doctor used his screwdriver on Maz’s equipment.

‘That’s new,’ she commented, nodding at the screwdriver.

He raised an eyebrow.  ‘Well, _somebody_ nicked my sunglasses.  Besides, it was time for an upgrade.  What do you think?’ he asked, holding the screwdriver up for her to see.

‘Pretty,’ she said, admiring the brass casing and the pulsing blue light.  ‘But what happened to “screwdrivers spoil the line of your jacket?”’

‘I do _not_ sound like that.  And anyway, Timelord pockets.  Bigger on the inside, jacket lines preserved.’  He went back to fiddling with the equipment.

The Teselecta finished scanning Clara, and with a weird shiver of plating she found herself staring into her own eyes.  She grinned.  ‘I look good.’

Ashildr smirked.  ‘What, for a technically dead woman?’

‘For anyone.  And I’m only mostly dead.’  Clara waggled her eyebrows, and Ashidlr rolled her eyes.

The Teselecta stepped back, eyes glowing.  One after another, the crew appeared in the beam of light.  The captain stepped over to the Doctor, holding out his hand.  ‘It’s a pleasure to work with you again, Doctor.’

The Doctor ignored him, until Clara cleared her throat significantly.  ‘Yes, yes, old friends, lovely.’  He shook hands perfunctorily.  ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish rerouting these controls.’

The captain looked a little nonplussed at the Doctor’s reception.  Clara patted his arm sympathetically.  Turning to the Doctor, she pulled the sonic glasses out of her pocket and put them on, grinning cheekily at his raised eyebrow.  ‘How can I help?’

He shook his head and pointed to a collection of wires and dials.  ‘You’ll need to speak for the Teselecta, so why don’t you get the audio relays set up while I finish with the guidance controls.’

‘Gotcha.’  Between watching the Doctor work while they traveled together and the knowledge she’d picked up traveling in her own TARDIS, getting the equipment sorted wasn’t that difficult.  She even found an earpiece that was straight out of an old spy show.  Sticking it in her ear, she did a comm check.  ‘Cylon One, this is Queen Victoria.  Do you copy?  Over.’  Across the room, the Teselecta relayed her words.  Since the Doctor hadn’t quite finished with the motor controls, Clara’s doppelgänger spoke without opening her mouth.  It was rather unnerving.  She shrugged and smirked at the Doctor.  ‘My work here is done.’

He rolled his eyes.  ‘You watch too much television.’

‘You’re one to talk.’

‘I only watch quality, educational programs.’  He grabbed a couple of thin cables, dragging them over to Clara.

She crossed her arms.  ‘You watch Loony Tunes reruns and My Little Pony.’

‘As I said.’  He plucked the glasses off her nose and used his screwdriver to attach the cables to the corners.  ‘There.  Now you should be able to control the Teselecta’s movements from here.’

‘Like a virtual reality game?’

‘More or less.’  He popped the glasses back onto her face.  ‘I’ve modified the glasses too, so you should see what the Teselecta sees.’

Suddenly she could see herself with the glasses wired to Maz’s equipment at the same time that she could see the Teselecta in front of her.  She staggered a little, and the Teselecta stumbled back as well.  ‘Oh, wow.  This is weird.  Really weird.  Weirder than being in a Dalek weird.’  She could hear the Teselecta echoing her words, which just added to the surrealism of the moment.  ‘Okay.  Gimmie a minute, I’ll get the hang of this.’  Holding her hands out for balance, she concentrated on regaining her equilibrium and not faceplanting onto the floor of Maz’s dungeon.  Basement.  Whatever.  _That_ would be a perfect end to this reunion.

‘Can I help you?’  The Doctor hovered in her peripheral vision, which _really_ wasn’t helping the whole out-of-body experience she had going on.

She swatted him away.  ‘No!  I’ve got this.’

‘Focus on one point of view at a time.  That should help to settle you.’

Concentrating on following his directions, she found that with a little practice, she could switch back and forth between the Teselecta’s viewpoint projected on her glasses, and looking past the display to what was actually in front of her.  ‘Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of it.’  Turning to the Teselecta, she raised one hand slowly, then the other, laughing when the ship copied her motions.  She started dancing around and making goofy faces, until the Doctor caught her gently by the shoulders.

‘You can dance with the ship that looks like you _after_ we fake your death, okay?’

Clara – and the Teselecta – stuck her tongue out.  ‘You’re no fun.  But yeah, alright, back to work.’  She pulled off the glasses so that she was acting independently of the ship.  Taking a deep breath, she turned to the Doctor.  ‘So that’s it, then?’

‘Yep.  Ashildr will drop the Teselecta off on Gallifrey, the Teselecta will take your place on Trap Street, and…’ he spread his hands eloquently.

‘Bob’s your uncle,’ Clara finished.

He looked at her, eyebrows quivering in bewilderment.  ‘I don’t have an uncle named Bob.  I’ve got twin second cousins named Theobald and Leopold, but that’s beside the point.  And why should faking your death wouldn’t have any bearing on my male relatives and their names anyway?’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘It’s just an expression, Doctor.’

‘Well, it’s a silly phrase.  It doesn’t mean anything.   Sounds like something a pudding brain would say, and you’re not a pudding brain.’

She threw up her hands.  ‘Oh, for-  Forget I said anything.’  Dropping her hands, she rubbed her arms nervously.  ‘So, this’ll work, right?  The Timelords will buy it?’

‘Pffft.  The Timelords will never know the difference.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we can be remarkably unobservant for masters of time and space.’

‘No, really?  I never would have imagined.  Especially after traveling with you for all those years,’ she deadpanned.  Sobering quickly, she added, ‘The Raven, though.  will it fool the Raven?’  She’d made her peace with it, she really had.  She had been fully prepared to return to Gallifrey and Trap Street, to resume her place in the timeline and with her death repair the damage she and the Doctor had done.  But now, seeing him again, knowing _he saw her_ and _remembered_ her _,_ that he’d _never forgotten_ her, tasting _hope_ again…if this didn’t work, her unbeating heart would break, and returning to Trap Street would be moot.  The despair would kill her just as surely as the Raven.

His entire face softened.  Gently, he took her small hands in his large ones, callused from working the TARDIS controls and holding a sword and who knew what else over the years.  Dimly, she wondered if the calluses stayed the same in each regeneration.  ‘Clara my Clara,’ he said tenderly, ‘this will work.  I promise.’  Grinning slightly, he added, ‘Trust me, won’t you?’

And in spite of everything, she found herself grinning back.  ‘Always.’

‘You can snog each other’s faces off _after_ we finish faking Clara’s death,’ Ashildr called dryly from across the room.  ‘Not before.  Because I do _not_ want to be present for that.  Am I right, guys?’ she asked the crew of the Teselecta, who were standing in an awkward cluster emphatically _not_ looking at Clara and the Doctor.

Clara blushed, glancing back at the Doctor, who was blinking at Ashildr in owlish confusion.  She freed one hand, cupping his jaw and drawing his attention back to her.  ‘Well.  Let’s get this show on the road.’

She let the Teselecta run on autopilot until Ashildr landed the diner on Gallifrey.  When Ashildr gave a thumbs-up to the console monitor, Clara took a deep breath – which she didn’t technically need, but old habits die hard, even after four hundred years – and put the glasses back on.  The split-viewpoint vertigo hit her again, but she concentrated on the Teselecta’s viewpoint and the dizziness settled quickly.

The Timelords were surprised to see her, and she tamped down the irritation that arose at their assumption she wouldn’t come back.  They weren’t _wrong,_ exactly, since she was in the process of trying to cheat death.  Again.  But she _had_ fully intended to come back, right up until the Doctor walked back into her life and offered her a way out.  She crossed her arms and glared at the General, Maz’s basement fading into the background completely.  ‘Ashidlr keeps the TARDIS.  You’ve got plenty to go ‘round, and I promised it to her.  She’s more than earned it.’  The General opened her mouth, possibly to object, but Clara narrowed her eyes.  ‘Ashildr gets the TARDIS or I walk, and time unravels into a tangle worse than my gran’s crochet.’  She raised a challenging eyebrow.  ‘Good luck getting _anybody_ to sort it then.’ 

There was no real call for her to be this salty about it, since she wasn’t actually there.  But it _felt_ like she was, and just because she planned to go back didn’t mean she had planned to go quietly.  Like the Doctor, she refused to go gentle into that good night.  So even though she was on a completely different planet in a completely different time, talking through a Clara-shaped space/time-ship, it still felt like she was there on Gallifrey and that this was real.  And if it was real, then she still hadn’t forgiven the Timelords for orchestrating her death in the first place, however inadvertently, and deliberately sentencing the Doctor to four and a half billion years in his own personal hell.

The General nodded.  ‘Fine.  I suppose it _is_ the least we can do.’

Clara snorted but didn’t comment, instead turning to hug Ashildr goodbye.  ‘See you around?’

Ashildr gave her a surprisingly watery smile.  ‘Of course.’  She would be returning to Takodana as soon as she left Gallifrey.  If all went well, the Teselecta would remain on Earth through Clara’s funeral, automatically returning to Maz’s castle after she was ‘buried’.

Clara watched the diner disappear, then turned, squaring her shoulders as she faced the General.  ‘Lead the way.’

All too soon they were back in the sterile white extraction chamber.  The General stood to the side.  If it were anyone else, Clara would have said that they looked awkward.  As it was, the General just looked slightly disgruntled.  She made an effort to smile at Clara, though.  ‘The universe is grateful for your sacrifice, Miss Oswald.’

‘I’m not doing this for the universe,’ Clara snapped.  ‘I’m doing it for the Doctor.’

She stepped through the door.

Walking back into Trap Street was the single most terrifying thing she had ever done.  It was worse than facing down an army of Cybermen, than thinking your planet was about to burn, than looking into the eyes of a cobbled-together cyborg threating her with death and saying, ‘Go on then.  Do it.’  Because all of the sudden she wasn’t safe and snug in Maz’ basement, years and lightyears away from Trap Street with a robot ship taking her place.  She was _right there_ , accepting her own death all over again, and it was easy to be brave in the face of death the first time, but now she had to do it all over again and she _knew_ what was coming and _what if it didn’t work-_

She took her place and spread her arms.  Time snapped back into motion, the Raven plunging into her chest. 

The universe held its breath.

Clara opened her mouth and screamed.

She didn’t know if she was experiencing a system overload because she was linked with the Teselecta or if the Raven had managed to follow that link back to her.  She didn’t really know where she was anymore, and it didn’t matter.  She was in agony, and all she could do was scream.  They’d tried their best, but she was going to die in the depths of Maz’s castle at the same time as the Teselecta died for her on Trap Street.  They’d been so _close_.

It was going to break the Doctor’s hearts.

Suddenly the glasses were ripped from her face and the pain was gone.  She sagged forward, only just conscious enough to realize that the Doctor was holding her, catching her before she could collapse to the ground.  Through the roaring in her ears, she could hear him calling her name frantically.

‘Did it work?’ she asked the velvet of his coat.  She really should straighten up, but that sounded like far too much effort.  Besides, she was in the Doctor’s arms.  She was _safe_.

‘Clara!’  His arms tightened around her, causing her to groan into his chest.  They loosened immediately, giving her room to breathe but still supporting her shoulders.  Which was good, otherwise she was certain she would dissolve into a boneless heap on the floor.  Actually, that sounded rather appealing.

She looked up, giving him a wobbly smile.  ‘Still here.’  He looked like he was on the verge of regenerating from sheer worry.  She lifted a shaking hand to cup his jaw, her smile widening as the enormity of what they had just done set in.  ‘I’m still here, Doctor.  I’m not going anywhere.’

His face split into the biggest, happiest smile she’d ever seen.  He picked her up, twirling her in a circle while she clung to his shoulders for dear life.  ‘This is absolutely a hug and I don’t even care!’

They laughed, giddy with their victory.  ‘It worked!  I can’t believe that worked!’ Clara said when he set her back on her feet.  She told herself she didn’t miss the rhythm of his hearts keeping time with her own.

Wait a minute…

‘My heart!’  She slapped her fingers on her wrist.  ‘Doctor!  I have a heartbeat!’  She thrust it under his nose for proof.  ‘How did I get my heartbeat back?’

He wrapped his long fingers delicately around her wrist, eyes crinkling when he felt her pulse for himself.  ‘When the Teselecta took your place, it must have jumpstarted everything, including you.’

‘So not only is time no longer unraveling, but I’m not technically dead anymore?’  She grinned, holding up her hand for a high-five.  ‘Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!’

‘Clara!’ Ashildr’s voice made her turn to the hallway, hand still in the air.

‘Ashildr!  Hey, you’re ba-OMPH!’ Clara staggered slightly as Ahsildr tackled her.

‘You’re not dead!’  Ashildr pulled back to squish Clara’s cheeks experimentally, as if giving her fish lips somehow qualified as proof of life.  ‘Well, more dead.  It worked!’

‘Yup!  Still here, not dead, less dead, in fact.’  Clara pulled Ashildr’s hands off her cheeks, working her jaw to return feeling to her face.  ‘I’ve even got a heartbeat!’

Ahsildr’s happy squeal was accompanied by the Teselecta materializing as the ship’s automatic recall kicked in.  It was laying on the floor, as if it had teleported directly from Clara’s coffin.  It was somewhat unnerving, seeing the Clara doppelganger laid out like that, after they had just established that she wasn’t, in fact, dead.  The Teselecta’s eyes popped opened and Clara and Ashildr jumped.  Behind them, the Doctor let out a startled _eep_.

It got to its feet as its eyes started to glow, and one by on the crew stepped into the beam and boarded.  The Doctor caught the captain’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically.  ‘Thank you!  Thank you so much!  We couldn’t have done this without you!’  The captain stepped into the beam and disappeared, and the Doctor caught Clara and Ashildr’s incredulous stares.  ‘What?’ he asked irritably, all semblance of affability draining away.  Clara laughed, shaking her head.  The Teselecta shifted back into its original disguise, and with a final smile and wave – which looked a lot less friendly than it did when it was mimicking Clara – it returned to its table upstairs.

Ashildr cleared her throat.  ‘So what happens now?  Y’know, since you don’t have the Raven hanging over your head and the threat of being solely responsible for the unraveling of time and space on your conscience anymore.’

‘Well…’  Clara’s eyes slid to the Doctor, who was replacing Maz’s equipment and muttering under his breath.

Ashildr gagged theatrically.  ‘Ugh, I forgot.  Well, let me give you guys a ride back to Utah so you can pick up his TARDIS.  But please, refrain from snogging until after I leave.  My stomach can’t take it.’

Clara blushed, grateful that the Doctor was distracted.  ‘Doctor!  Are you ready to leave?’

‘Yes, yes, all done here.’  He came over, stuffing his screwdriver into his pocket.  The tips of his ears were pink, and Clara realized he wasn’t as oblivious to their conversation as she originally thought.  Ashildr snickered, and Clara’s blush deepened.

 

* * *

 

Clara and the Doctor leaned against each other in front of the familiar blue police box, waving as the diner disappeared.  They hadn’t stopped touching each other since they’d left Maz’s place, although they’d refrained from anything more than handholding out of consideration for Ashildr’s delicate sensibilities.  They did, however, make sure she knew it, which earned them good-natured eye-rolls and long-suffering sighs.

Ashildr couldn’t wait to explore time and space in her very own TARDIS, so after a quick hug and plans to meet up for a girls’ day sometime in the future – or past – she’d ducked back into the diner and took off for parts unknown.

Clara dropped her arm as the wind of the dematerialization died down.  ‘I can’t believe it.  Four hundred years of preparing for my own death, and it’s over.  We won.’  She hugged the Doctor, burying her face in the velvet of his coat.  ‘Thank you.  Thank you for saving me.  Thank you for not forgetting me.  Thank you for _seeing_ me.’

He dropped a kiss on her hair.  ‘Thank you for exactly the same.  Thank you for trusting me.  Does this mean you’re not angry at me anymore?’

She laughed giddily.  ‘Well, I’ve still got nineteen-odd years.  That little trip to see Maz messed up my count, but I’m sure the TARDIS would be willing to help me keep track.  Although…’she leaned back in his arms, studying him thoughtfully.  ‘I suppose I should take off a couple of years, seeing as how you saved my life and restarted my heart and all.’

‘Generous of you.’

‘I thought so.’  Her thoughts drifted back to Ashildr’s less-than-subtle hints about their future, and her cheeks warmed.  ‘So, what now?’ she asked, echoing Ashildr’s earlier question.

He grinned that wide, toothy grin she loved, the one that until today she thought she’d never see again.  ‘How would you like to go to a wedding?  There’s this planet, Kalesh VI, where the Soul Companions throw themselves into a river of fire and become a Binary Soul.  One of the Companions is a friend of mine, and I got the invitation last week.  You can be my plus one.  What do you think?’

‘I think that sounds perfect.’  She pulled him down and pecked him on the nose before snapping her fingers to open the TARDIS door.  As she tugged him after her into the familiar console room, she let out a contented sigh.  She was home.

Finally.  They were home.

**Author's Note:**

> Oy vey, this thing was a MONSTER.  
> Between getting the idea to use the Teselecta to fake Clara's death and the opening scene with Clara echoing Twelve's plea to 'just see me,' this fic has been haunting me for the last month. It was supposed to be this quick little thing, but it kept GROWING, and dragging other characters and ideas until it was satisfied. Most of the Easter eggs are references to ideas from the Basketverse - the AU that sprung fully-formed from the depths of the Hybrid Baby Wastebasket.  
> Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my official WIPs...  
> Come shoot the breeze or send me prompts on tumblr: [taleasoldastime-andspace](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/) I promise I don't bite.


End file.
